Soulbound
by CuteMythologicalCats
Summary: Feyre is Feyre but also not Feyre. This complicates things. Aka: The SI-Feyre that nobody asked for.


I was Feyre, but Feyre was not me.

A seemingly confusing contradiction that shouldn't have made any sense, if I hadn't been reborn into a fantasy novel. However, it was this quintessential contradiction that could end up changing the world forever. After all, how can one be the soulmate to someone promised to another?

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Her eyes were like ice and her words like steel as she gazed down upon me, the ripped sleeve of a small painted doll hanging in her grasp. The beautifully painted face had been slightly chipped, while the elegant floral dress was dirty and ripped.

"I-I'm sorry, Nesta. I-I didn't mean to—" I stammered out, flinching as she stalked towards me. Even at the ripe age of sixteen, I was terrified of my sister, and for good reason. Nesta was not afraid to tear apart anyone whom she deemed a threat to Elain and her happiness, even me. I may have been her sister in flesh, but Nesta despised me and I had no idea as to why.

Nesta glared hatefully at me. "You broke Elain's doll," she growled. There was nothing but cruelty in her gaze, and any hope of avoiding punishment was futile. All I could do was flinch back, as Nesta punched me in the nose.

A sharp crack sound filled the area, as my senses exploaded with pain. I lifted my arms up to shield myself, but no further blows came. I opened my eyes–my vision spotted black from the pain–Elain was standing in behind Nesta, holding her arm gently back. Her eyes were red from crying, and dried tear tracks stain her face, but in her eyes was also a relieving mix of disappointment and sorrow.

"Nesta," she frowned, "Please stop. Feyre doesn't deserve this." Elain looked carefully down at my bloodied face, sympathy etched across her face.

I knew that my nose was broken, just like I knew that Nesta would stand down after Elain asked her to. She always did what Elain wanted her to, even if it meant that she would have to leave those who she swore vengeance against alone.

Knowing this, I looked down shamefully at my paint-stained fingers, sighing lightly. I had hoped that I would have been able to make something of the bond gifted to me. That instead of causing strife and conflict, my softer personality would make Elain and Nesta like me more. However, once Father had been beaten bloody and crippled, I was tasked with becoming the provider. And with that, any amiable feelings towards me vanished—at least on Nesta's end. Elain was a mystery, as some days she showed disdain while others, sibling love.

So far, nothing had changed from my presence. And no matter how horrid I felt now, I hoped with all of my heart that Feyre's future–my future–wouldn't change either. My soul was not that of Feyre's, and with that glaring detail, the question of if Rhysand and I would be linked together was one that constantly plagued my mind.

At this thought, tears pricked my eyes. Nesta flinched slightly at the sight of them, as I never cried in front of her, but I ignored her uncharacteristic show of remorse. "L'vh mh ahlnh, Nhstah." I growled like an injured animal. Like the half-wild child I was. I was like a frightened animal, ready to claw her way out of a terrifying situation, and the fact that I was hurt didn't make it any better.

Nesta didn't say anything in response. Instead, she handed Elain back her doll and walked away. I didn't say anything more. Instead, I tried to set my bloody nose as best as possible. Ignoring the pain was getting easier as time went on.

What scared me was my ever growing lack of affection towards Nesta and Elain. When the time comes, would they become something I would fight for? Would I even want to save them? I had no answers to these questions, even if a small part of me chanted no.

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I was more innocent than Feyre, and I wasn't planning on changing that anytime soon. A part of me, primal that maybe, wished to save myself for Rhysand, while another cringed at the thought of anyone touching me. Period. I suppose that was a good thing, though. Trashlin was less likely to work his fae magic on me and aid the enemy if he had a different relationship with me than in the books.

Perhaps my sisters will be spared that way, or perhaps I'll change everything for the worse. Either way, it wasn't something that I could control, not that I would have stood for it anyways. I had too much pride to lower myself to whoring myself out just so I could ensure things went perfectly according to the storyline. I knew what I had to do, and when I had to do it, and that was all I needed.

I would sacrifice anything but my virginity, even my dignity. It seemed strange, but to me it made perfect sense. The idea of killing people—fae even—left an unpleasant feeling in my stomach, but to save my friends and future, I would do it. And I would find a way to do it without sacrificing the one thing that I vowed I wouldn't.

My morality was always a fickle thing.

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"I'm going hunting." I called out cheerlessly. "Don't die while I'm gone."

Neither one of my sisters responded, not that I really expected them to. An unwelcome vision of another girl flashed in my mind, but I shook it off. It wouldn't do me any good to think about those who were long gone to me.

Although I had packed all of my stuff, I paused at the door. Some deep part of me begged to see the lone painting in my room–the proof of my utter adoration for my future, if it hadn't changed. So, I listened. I stripped off the worn leather boots and thick deerskin coat—small allowances made so I didn't freeze to death—and quickly walked towards my 'room'. It wasn't much, but it was mine and private. Neither Nesta or Elain wanted to share with me, and Father mostly slept on the couch, so I had an entire room to myself, even if it was as small as a closet.

Listening to the soft but soothing sounds of my family's padding feet as they went around the house, I payed back on my bed and stared up at my ceiling. Instead of painting Rhys's night sky on my dresser, I had made sure to paint the swirling image on my ceiling, so that I could stare up at it at night and remember to remain hopeful.

The fact that I had even received the image from Rhysand made me happy, almost stupidly so. However, Maas hadn't gone into much detail surrounding how mates were connecting in the books, and since I technicality wasn't Feyre, I had no idea whether Rhys and I would share a bond or not. Many nightmares where fueled by the worry surrounding a hopeless Rhys stuck in Amarantha's grasp without his small ray of sunshine.

Not that I would claim to be his ray of sunshine, but seeing his vision gave me hope. Hope that we shared the bond, and that we both had happiness in our future. It was that same hope that kept my spirit intact. I could brave Tamlin if I kept the hope alive that my High Lord in black armor would one day come and save me from Tamlin's abusive grasp. If Tamlin would even grow to love me that way, perhaps since I wasn't truly Feyre, whatever drew him to her would be lacking in me.

I knew that deep down it was wishful thinking, but I still wasn't ready to cope with what the future would bring. Feyre was different than I was. We were both pretty shy, but at the end of the day, she had a fire present within her that was lacking in me, and I couldn't help but think that fire would end up making everything different for me.

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End of chapter 1

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So, I'm new at this whole fanfic thing, so I hope you enjoy.

Feel free to send me ideas and the like. Reviews are appreciated. Also, I'm mostly writing this for fun, so it's not going to be written the best, so take everything with a grain of salt. If nothing else, this can serve as your guilty pleasure fic.

The best,

— CMC


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